When in that final stage
Of consummate full rage,
You cannot control
An impulse that feels whole.
Sublustrum's not a snare,
But mind you--do take care
You don't reach Four too fast,
Or your life shall not last...

Andorra realised that Virul was on his knees, but he was not begging for his life. A trap. Even if he were pleading for Komad to spare him, what had the Avalonian learned throughout the course of history, of this war? Sometimes the enemy took advantage of another's kindness, of another's offer to let him live. This was most certainly the case with Virul. She knew she had to act.

Meanwhile, her heart, almost sending itself into permanent arrest from exhaustion, gave Andorra the strength for the final blow. Che...tyr'...

The blade of her sacred sword sliced through Virul's rotting head, making his hair fly in all directions and his gray, matted flesh splay out in ribbons. He had no real semblance of what sentient beings called a 'brain' anymore, but rather a primitive mass of gray matter that had thousands of holes filled with fluid. The fluid spilled out and sprayed in all directions, spattering the walls. Not stopping with his head, Andorra pushed the blade down further, breaking through his brittle ribcage, his sternum, his desiccated black heart. Down through the spine and the pelvic bone Chetyrnadtsat cleaved, until at last...

Lord Virul, Dark Lord of the Sith, Mastermind of the Threefold War

had been riven

completely in half.

Andorra's eyes were filled with tears, with tears of wild glee and endless bliss. She had done it. She herself, the weak one, the useless one, had rid the galaxy of the greatest threat it had ever known since Lord Palpatine. Her heart began to beat again as normal consciousness flowed back to her, and she began to spin around and around, like a child spinning in her mother's arms. She would rescue her mother. She would rejoin her friends. She would be joined to Kalla in a marriage through the Force, where their hearts and minds and bodies would be as one. All that remained was to leave here...

Most people feared madness. Andorra did not. The loss of one's mind was not always a painful thing. Sometimes, it was full of joy, this surrender of one's senses to the paradise that was this one single moment. Victory, victory, victory!

Lord Virul's body was a heap of flesh and bone, of black blood and stinking ooze. There could be no more fitting death for the Dark Lord of the Sith...